


The Five Stages Of Lesbian Dumbassery

by gaytriangle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (for me), 5 + 1, Bisexual Character, Coming Out, F/F, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Internalised Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Mutual Pining, Sansa comes out to herself, Slow Burn, and to everyone around her about five minutes later!, good job San, new years fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriangle/pseuds/gaytriangle
Summary: Sansa is straight. Totally straight. She’s not in love with her roommate, and her roommate definitely doesn’t love her back.Or: five times they ditched communication in favour of pre-emptively declaring the whole thing a wash, and one where that was very much not necessary.





	1. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt

Sansa and Margaery had been very good, absolutely heterosexual friends for almost a year before Sansas brothers began the line of questioning usually reserved for her boyfriends. 

“I know I’ve already met her, but Sansa, shouldn’t you introduce her to us officially?” Robb, bless his heart and his blindness, wasn’t even joking. He seemed rather confused when Sansa firmly explained that Margaery was dating Renly Baratheon, and she was dating Joffrey Baratheon, and both of them were fine with that. 

Jon wasn’t satisfied with a declaration that no, really, she was content dating Joffrey. He was never usually one to push, but apparently he and Robb were both determined to convince her of her burdening attraction to Margaery. “Sansa, you talk about her all the time.” He spoke like she was one of his terminally ill patients and refusing to admit it. 

“Because she’s my roommate!” Jon only shot her a look. Sure, she and Margaery lived together, spent most of their days that wasn’t with their respective family, boyfriend, or work together, and even occasionally fell asleep together on the couch, but that didn’t mean anything. Every good set of friends did that. (She ignored, even to herself, that most of the couples she knew did it before they made it official.) 

And anyway, Sansa was beyond straight. She had no problem with unusual tastes, hells, she loved Theon like the brother he would end up being whenever Robb got off his ass to buy a ring. She and Brienne were, by this point, practically the token straight people in their circle of friends. It just wasn’t her thing. She was the good daughter, and she was fine with Joffrey. He was a little rough around the edges, but he was pretty. Mother loved him. It would be nice to have more common interests, but Mother and Father barely had anything in common, and they made it work. She would be fine with him. 

And- and even _if_ she wasn’t, why with Margaery of all women? She wasn’t the sort of bombshell that someone like Asha seemed to favour. She was beautiful, yes, but she wielded it like a weapon. One flash of the roses perfect teeth as she leaned on the front desk looking like a Westerosi Vogue model would get her in anywhere, and she knew it. Sansa liked to stand back and admire it when she got them both in somewhere from a purely approving-friend point of view. She certainly wasn’t one of the love struck idiots behind the counter.


	2. Anger, anguish, and one aggravated bisexual

Margaery was under no such illusions. She knew she was hopelessly pining for her roommate, and it pissed her off.

“You know how many people would turn me down?” She whined to Loras, one of the few days that Renly wasn’t able to make it and Loras was free enough to listen to her pathetic moaning. He nodded as he did her nails. “Very few. Why did you pick a northerner, Margaery?”

“Because she’s beautiful!” Her brother raised a sculpted eyebrow, and the only reason Margaery didn’t hit him was to conserve her polish. “Even you should’ve noticed. Her hair is like fire, and her smile lights up the room. I can’t look away.” Gods, her voice was painfully whiny. 

Loras, at this, gave an ugly snort. “Listen to yourself. She’s cute, but not lost puppy cute. Just get over yourself.” 

”She’s kind, too. And patient. Wicked sense of humour. Have you seen how she puts up with Joffrey? And sometimes, Loras, she can come out with the cleverest things, and she seems almost surprised at herself! It’s driving me insane!” This actually made her brother gag, slightly, but Margaery barely noticed. She was in too deep. 

Loras spoke with a slow, patient tone usually reserved for those that weren’t all there. “Why are you telling me this, and not her?” 

Margaery shook her head. “She’s the one, Loras, but she barely even notices me. If she wasn’t so cute all the time, I could handle it! But I see her biting her lip, and all I want is to shove her onto my damn cheap bed.”

Loras looked vaguely disturbed. Good. He ranted about Renly often enough, and it was only fair that she pay it back. “Ask her out, Margaery.” 

Margaery gave a shriek of frustration. “She’s painfully straight! I don’t think she even noticed me screwing Asha, and I only brought her home to point out that I swung her way.” Loras laughed, and she elbowed him with her free arm. “This is a punishment straight from the seven hells, Loras. I can’t live with her or that stupid token boyfriend, but I can’t live without her.”

Loras, screwing the top tight on the little red jar, sniffed. “I don’t know what you could’ve done to deserve such a trial, Marge, I really don’t.”

At that point, she did the one thing she could to relieve her torment. She tackled him to the carpet.


	3. Sorry, Sansa: you can’t ignore your way back to heterosexuality

The morning Margaery had come out to the (perfectly platonic) breakfast Sansa always made with _Theons sister_ trailing behind was the day when Sansas very careful denial of her attraction fell down around her ears. 

She had been so angry. How dare she bring some random ironborn hussy into their little apartment to screw? Some clipped questioning had revealed that no, actually, Renly was Loras’ boyfriend. A traitorous part of her mind was relieved, but she was mostly distracted by the sudden realisation that she was in too deep with this girl. 

Joffrey had broken up with her not long after, and she couldn’t even bring herself to be relieved. How could she have missed this? Robb and Jon were both unbearably smug, of course, but Sansa was staring at her life in pieces with no clue on how to salvage it. She fed Margaery a line about Rickons birthday, and hid out in winterfell. 

Thing was: Sansa had a pretty abysmal track record with boyfriends, but she was a loyal friend. She knew friendship like the back of her hand, and she knew that if she killed this petty little crush and stayed friends with Margaery, they’d probably remain so for years. She’d rather have a strong friendship with the girl than a weak relationship. 

When she told this resolution to Arya, she laughed. “San, that’s not going to work. You can’t just ignore this until you’re prepared to make Mom happy again.”

Sansa placed a hand on her hip. “Says who? I’ve managed it this far, haven’t I? Stay up here for a week or two, text Brienne that I got sick, go back when I’m ready?”

Arya stopped, then, and gave her a pitying look that sent Sansas stomach through her boots. “No.”


	4. Don’t go breakin my heart

The first week, Margaery honestly thought it was just Rickons birthday. The second week, she figured that it was a leftover kick in the chest from that breakup with Joffrey. The third week, she admitted to herself that maybe, possibly, she had fucked up. 

“Cella, I think I’ve lost the other half of my heart.” Myrcella, her heart as golden as her hair, made a very realistic pitying noise in the back of her throat as she braided Margaerys hair. “I’m sure it’s not so bad!”

Margaery shook her head, and the Baratheon clucked as she pulled out the now botched braid and started to weave again. “It’s worse. I tried to hint I was available for girls-“ “by spending the night with Greyjoy? That’s not a plan Olenna would like.”

She was right, and Margaery hated it, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit it. “You weren’t available.” The lioness giggled at that, but wasn’t about to let Margaery off so easily. “Look, if she got scared by Asha, she wasn’t the one.”

“She was a good friend, and a better person! Maybe if I didn’t come out with a one night stand...” Myrcella shook her head. “This wasn’t your fault, M. Sometimes things just go south.”

Margaery huffed, picking at the edge of her polish. “We lived in eachothers pockets for too long. I don’t know how to be a person without her.”

Myrcella sighed. “Look, I’m having a party at the weekend. Hang out with some of your other friends, okay? See if one of them can shake you out of it.”

“You’re a star, Cella.” Margaery hugged the blonde, who merely grinned. “Yeah yeah, get out of here you useless lesbian.”


	5. You can’t catch me, gay thoughts!

This is fine. This is fine. This is fine. 

Sansa was watching her phone ring- again- with the sort of detached horror she usually associated with a particularly predictable slasher film. The contact picture she had of Margaery was a goofy selfie from not long before. The brunette had her arms slung around Sansas neck as they both grinned like idiots. She was gorgeous. It sparked another painful shudder as she threw her phone back against her pillow. 

“You can’t hide here forever, Sansa. Catelyn is beginning to worry.” Once again, her brother stood at her door frowning at her life decisions. When even Jon didn’t think she was doing the right thing, she knew she was well and truly screwed. 

“I’m only hiding here until I’m ready to see my best friend again.” Sansas voice was weak to her own ears, and Jon certainly wasn’t buying it. 

“You’re not friends anymore, Sansa. You won’t be okay being just friends until you talk to her about this.” Sansa shifted on her seat. Damn his logic! It was infuriating to be the Stark that needed to be helped along again, like she was still twelve years old. 

“She’s my best friend. Down south, she might even be my only one,” she began, keeping her eyes firmly on her hands so she could pretend to miss the pitying glance. “I’m okay just... watching from afar.”

Jon sighed. He stood there, arms folded, until Sansa began to wish it was Arya giving her the third degree. Hell, even awkward, kind Robb would be better. Jon was too determined. 

“Watch from less far, then, if you’re sure you’re okay. Myrcella called Asha to tell Theon that Robb better let you know-“ and he took a breath at that convoluted mess of a conversation, even as Sansa gave a tiny laugh, “-that if you don’t spend New Years with your friends, they’ll come up to Winterfell and steal you back.” 

“Who else will be there?” Sansa needed to double check. Sure, it sounded fun, but if her and Margaery and alcohol were in the same place, her tentative truce with her gay thoughts wouldn’t last the night. Jon shook his head. “They said Brienne, Arianne, just the normal crew. It’d be good for you.”

Sansa broke into a tiny smile. Okay, she thought, I’ll go to ’Cellas. If Arianne was there, Margaery was unlikely to be, and she could start wading her way back into her own life, one step at a time. 

She was getting past this.


	6. Chapter 6

Margaery arrived a little bit late to the Water Gardens the next night, but she had a perfectly valid excuse: she didn’t want to come. 

Sure, she loved Myrcella and her perfectly suave boyfriend Trystane, but the rest of his family drove her insane. She knew that Arianne would be around at the least, and the way she looked at Sansa had always made Margaerys skin crawl. Brienne was normally a balm to the roses soul, but seeing her and her Lannister acting like two halves of one body right now would drive anyone unlucky in love to drink. 

That, realistically, was Margaerys plan: breeze in, drink some ridiculously strong concoction or other that Ygritte had dragged with her, and get carried home with half her brain left on Myrcellas Dornish marble floor. She had already had a little something when she was dropped off. 

Still, a Tyrell always looked her best, even when she felt anything but, so she was in an outfit worthy of a red carpet when she clicked her heels inside the suite to see Tully red hair flowing over the edge of Martells loveseat. It was like she developed tunnel vision. Sansa looked good, far too good to have been sick and far too pretty for Margaery to even hope of heading anywhere else. When she sat at her side, the other girl flushed as red as her hair. 

“Margaery.” Why was Sansa trying not to meet her eyes? The Stark only flushed worse when her gaze drifted lower on Margaerys body. 

“Sansa. Are you alright? I’ve missed you.” Gods, she couldn’t keep her tone steady. She could hear, very distantly, Myrcella making an adoring coo. Sansa began to fidget. 

“I’m sorry, Mar, I just needed some time to figure things out. After Joffrey- and you were busy with Asha, so I thought, well,” the wolf was interrupted when Margaery frantically shook her head. 

“Asha? She’s hardly my type. She’s in it for one night stands.” Margaerys stare was practically burrowing through Sansas baby blues at this point, begging the northerner to be on the same page as she was. She wasn’t blind, right? She was reading attraction in the way Sansa was leaning towards her, in the way her eyes were resting on only Margaery. 

The Stark made a tiny, choked noise in the back of her throat. “What- I mean- what is your type, then, Margaery?”

She shifted until she was practically sitting on top of Sansa. “I mightn’t discriminate on gender, but I need someone sweet. Red hair doesn’t hurt.” Sansa was leaning in too, now, with only a little hmm noise to confirm she was still hearing Margaery at all. “Big blue eyes, a little bit clueless, but very, very clever. Do you have a type, Sansa?”

Margaery wasn’t going to take this last leap. She wasn’t sure if she could still move, to be honest. She had the vaguest impression of someone chanting down numbers, but all she could really feel was the shift as Sansa pulled her closer. “You,” she murmured simply, and they rang in the new year together.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s still technically a New Years fic. Also, the temptation to rewrite this entire thing so I could end on Jon saying “I always thought Sansa would end up as the straight Stark” and Ygritte saying “you know nothing” was very strong, but I resisted.


End file.
